


We Both Die In Every Dream He Has

by foreskinsmoothie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bulimia, Cum Eating, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emetophilia, Humiliation, M/M, Mild Humor, Severe Depression, Size Kink, Unsafe Sex, Vomiting, but neither of them are bulimic, dont read while enjoying a meal, graphic descriptions of gross shit, im seriously warning you this gets real fucked up real fast, kuroos horse hung bc i fucking said so, seriously raunchy, the forbidden pastry shop au, zero to one hundred type shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28477434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreskinsmoothie/pseuds/foreskinsmoothie
Summary: Kuroo Tetsurou is a college dropout making hardly livable wages being hit on by infamously obnoxious rich boy Lev Haiba.Both of their lives change when Kuroo finds a perfect use for him.
Relationships: Haiba Lev/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	We Both Die In Every Dream He Has

Tetsurou had been miserable since dropping out of college. 

He tried to fool himself, say it wasn’t that bad-- he was lying to himself on a daily basis.

His apartment was the smallest, shittiest little place, and his gas bill hadn’t been paid in months, there was more than a hundred incomplete and abandoned works just strewn across the entirety of his tiny living room, there was a steadily increasing number of mouse shit pellets beneath the kitchen sink and adulthood was generally sucking the life out of him. The brutal cycle of dreadful work hours, unfinished commissions and social collapse were running his foolish optimism directly into the ground. 

And his job — oh, his fucking job, don’t even get him started. Some rich asshole owned a choice handful of businesses (and probably Japan itself, plus all of its citizens and the graves their carcasses were haphazardly thrown in) and yet Tetsurou sold cream puffs that he himself couldn’t afford to look at, much less consume with his own mouth. The highlight of his days were watching Mukbangs on his cracked to hell and back ipad, for some sad reason that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Glossy lips spreading wide for a mouthful of something savory and dripping-- red bites of steak or pork slathered in sauce. The best parts were when the girls got too messy and had juice dripping down their chin- on the off chance that they gag or choke? Tetsurou would be in heaven. For only a moment.

He’d like to say he was down on his luck but the entire purpose of saying that was to imply that his luck would turn up eventually, which seemed like a slim to none chance. This depressing little existence of his was insignificant, the irrelevance crushing, but it was his life and he had no one to blame but himself. And at least… he didn’t ever have to rely on anyone, thanking anyone for taking care of him. He took care of himself. His own tiny, mouse laden apartment, his own cracked ipad, his own tragically soul sucking job at _Golden Bell’s Cream Puff Factory_ or just hell if you happened to work there. 

Tetsurou was sure the cream puffs were of superb quality but any unfortunate soul who happened to work there was totally fucked himself entirely included. And had the manager mentioned that it was completely not a rip off of the cheesecake factory? Because it wasn’t. Fuck the Cheesecake Factory. Fuck the Cheesecake Factory’s grandparents and next of kin. That was their motto at the totally not rip off version of the Cheesecake Factory.

Honest to god Tetsurou considered himself a laid back type of guy who could push through the hardships with an iron heart but he was rapidly approaching an inescapable situation of low funds and dwindling paychecks mixed with exhaustion in a miserable cocktail. Just surviving- eating bad takeout day after day, festering acne from the grease, scraping through his savings to buy winter clothes, dragging his feet, looking longingly at luxuries in stores like the saddest excuse for a man on the planet. 

You could definitely say it was sort of a kick in the crotch for some chronically annoying rich boy to waltz into his _own_ totally not rip off Cheesecake Factory and start not-so-subtly flirting with him.

His name was Lev and Tetsurou was sure he _hated him_ . He just strolled in with his too green eyes and his too nice clothes, and his too genuine smile with too long limbs that knocked everything that wasn’t bolted to the floor over. Then, get this, he popped open his fat wallet and just shoved a wad of _whatever_ in Tetsurou’s sad little tip jar like it was nothing special, ordered the most expensive latte and strawberry shortcake cream puff in the fucking world, his order cost more than Kuroo Tetsurou’s _electric bill_ , and does his awkward little fidgeting thing that drove Tetsurou up the _fucking wall_. Like he expected Tetsurou to fawn over his wealth and beg for access into his pants and cling to him with tears in his sad, poor person eyes.

He was an insult, a disgrace, and a valued customer. Admittedly, if Tetsurou’s sanity and dignity weren’t saved by the sanctity of watching Mukbangs every single night with his sad entre of cup noodles in his lap, he might’ve just sucked the guy’s rich dick right in the middle of totally not rip off Cheesecake Factory and begged to be his pampered high class hooker.

It wasn’t like Tetsurou liked hating the very culmination of Lev’s being. Lev was a sweet little nineteen year old with curious, catlike eyes and he was nice-- if a bit rude and invasive, very obviously sporting an emotional boner for Tetsurou. He just couldn’t help the slightly aroused bitterness from growing every time Lev came to the counter with that same hopeful, longing, expectant look on his too pale face. Too much. And Tetsurou was doing just fine without Lev’s endless well of funds (and his nasty habit of lying to himself was becoming disastrous).

“Please, take him out on a date.” Yaku said after the human equivalent of a tornado had finally made his leave, the kid not even three feet away from the building yet. As much as Tetsurou pained over his sleep deprived state, Yaku’s eye bags probably weighed a pound each and there was no white left in his scleras. Just bloodshot red decorated with dark veins. He worked more doubles than anyone else on the staff easily. “I’m going to start shooting heroin if I have to sweep up that poor, poor vase one more time. They keep replacing it.”

“No thank you.” Tetsurou responded smoothly. “I can’t be pinned down by a relationship. This bachelor stays on the market.”

“One date won’t kill you. And I can guarantee he’ll be immediately turned off by your insufferable personality once you’re no longer obligated to be polite, so I’ll never have to see those dangerous elbows knock a drink over ever again.”

“Rude, Yakkun. I’ll be reporting that to our manager. Verbal abuse from the walking espresso.”

Yaku said something along the lines of a detailed and hateful death threat but Tetsurou was already lost in thought, leaning on the counter as he stared wistfully at the man in question (now across the street and climbing into a limousine with his coffee and cream puff in hand). Would finally sating Lev’s odd craving for Tetsurou’s dick make him go away? Yaku was right. It wouldn’t be the _worst_ thing in the world. Tetsurou was getting supremely strong sugar daddy vibes and he hadn’t actually been on a date in a while. He spent his free time sleeping, being ashamed of the notifications blowing up his phone from clients, and watching Mukbangs. It sounded parasitic to do that to a young adult who could obviously not conceal his emotions for jack shit, to pluck his heart strings for a few out of boredom and personal gain (and financial crisis). 

However, wouldn’t one little date satisfy his cute little heart? 

He consulted Daishou directly after they fucked like dogs on the floor of the unimpressive master bedroom and Daishou seemed offended by the idea. On and off since high school and he was still just as infuriating as he remembered, sprawled out on his floor with his pants around his knees and his dress shirt ripped open, throat love bitten. But not from Tetsurou, not this time. Tetsurou’s sex life had plummeted since graduating, Daishou’s had flourished-- but at a price. He himself was looking more strung out everytime they met, thinner, sicker, more sad behind the vindictiveness. Empty sex made for an empty man, apparently. 

“That’s unfair!” He hissed, swatting at Tetsurou’s naked shoulder with disdain. His thin eyes were playful. “You’re so annoying and lame! Why don’t _I_ get a naïve foreign sugar daddy? I’m cuter than you, my personality is better, and I wouldn’t sit around thinking about it like an idiot!”

“Incorrect, you’re a bunch of snakes in a sneople suit. I would open the biggest can of whoopass on you in the personality department. That’s not the point, though. Do I smash or pass?” It seemed like such a simple inquiry for a situation that wasn’t quite so. Lev didn’t seem to want to have one night of passion followed by boring ass adult talk for no reason at all other than to not talk about their steamy sex during daily interactions. He wanted a lover. He wanted love. Daishou wasn’t love, he was hot flesh with hotter openings, frustration, claw marks on his shoulders. “He seems like a clingy little fucker. A real ‘what’s your password’ piece of ass.”

“Are you stupid? Clingy or not, smash him, scrub! Before I get to him and seduce him with my… sneople suit.”

That upcoming Monday, the young man spent a lot more time than originally planned watching Mukbangs, then spiraled downwards into an internet rabbit hole until he was on a website that he used a VPN just to browse. Sickly people, men and women alike, shoving indigestible and phallic objects so far down their throats that they spewed chunks. And they just kept going until only blood and stomach acid was coming up- bulimic people, no doubt, afflicted with some horrible, life altering illness that made living hell. Tetsurou watched. His hand slid down to his pants, a thin finger on screen slid down into a hot, wet throat. He watched. He gripped himself and began to move his hand, fantasies running wild and came when vomit gushed out in splintered streams, all over the digital mans clothes, his face, the floor. The one on the other end of the camera began to wipe it up before the video ended.

‘What a waste’ Tetsurou thought, his sloppy hand laying in his lap.

He went to sleep feeling disturbed but satisfied in a way he hadn’t been in months.

Tetsurou’s adult life was spiraling down into the shower drain that was clogged with dead mouse fur and cigarette butts. What did he have left to lose at this point? The job he loathed? The apartment with messages seeping through the thin layer of white paint, most likely a courtesy of the demon snarling from the window with the broken lock? There was brief moments squeezed in between the foolish optimism, bottomless sarcasm and dirty humor-- moments of bloodshot eyes, knees tucked into his chest, wet cheeks and clutching his chest because the pain was so prevalent. It built until it crashed, then a lopsided, shit eating smile slunk back onto his face and the pressure of heartache was reset.

Was that what Lev wanted? Or did Lev want this;

“Can I get your order, slim?”

It was devastating to watch Lev’s animated eyes light up the way they did-- glistening green gems that sparkled like the gold he probably hoarded in the Haiba family safe. He would tilt his head and give a boyish giggle, so sickeningly sweet and pink cheeked.

“Did you know I love the way you part your hair? It’s super edgy, Gerard Way from MCR chic!-- do you spike it up everyday, Kuroo-san?”

“This is bedhead, I slept ‘till 4 today. How ‘bout that order?”

It was clockwork for Lev to get distracted showering Kuroo in compliments. He snapped his skinny neck back up as he leaned in towards the menu but he ordered the same thing everytime. Kuroo just watched the line of his adam’s apple hungrily, followed it down to the dip of his collarbone peaking out of his shirt, traced the pretentious gold chains hugging his knobby throat intently. No doubt real gold. Maybe a family heirloom thrown into the collection of jewelry around his neck, just for some variety.

“I want the sweet strawberry one with the whip cream on it and a low fat caramel latte with whip cream on that too! And I want the vanilla soy milk in it too-- only if its soy!”

Lev really was slim. The broadest part of him was his shoulders, hugged by his pretentious designer velour track jacket, and his waist was tiny with matching velour track pants that hung just low enough off of them to show a sliver of his Calvin Kleins. Tetsurou didn’t even wear underwear, let alone a pair that cost more than fifty cents. Lev’s hands, inarguably, were his most attractive feature-- long fingers with prominent knuckles and prominent veins beneath milky skin, perfect pink nail beds, and perfect rosy palms. His face was filled with foreign exoticness, pearly skin that was impossible for Japanese natives to maintain, an upturned nose and wry red lips most often curving in a sharp smile. His cheekbones and jawline were glass sharp and his green eyes were full of intensity, no matter how simple or mundane the task. He was a living splash of color.

Tetsurou rang him up and Lev was beaming at him.

“Yaku-san’s making it right? It’s good when he makes it. But, Kuroo-san’s still better- ‘Cos you make it with _love_. I think Yaku-san’s too bitter for that.”

“I make it with your nasty ass vanilla soy milk, you vegan fuck.”

“I’m not vegan! I’m lactose intolerant!” Lev knitted his gray brows in distress. “But, the whip cream is really good…”

All Tetsurou could think was that maybe Lev shouldn’t be bottoming if he’s lactose intolerant and eating copious amounts of pure dairy everyday. As much as he was into some weird shit, he wasn’t into shit. Wasn’t there medicine for lactose intolerance? 

Lev made sure to arrive when the foot traffic was pitiful and their sales were low, never in the morning or even afternoon. He did this intentionally so, pestering Tetsurou when business was slow enough that he could humor his, quite frankly, stupid affection. He’d sit at the counter waiting for his order, where he would then receive it, goof off too much and spill his coffee everywhere. He made people’s lives more difficult and just never seemed to learn for it-- obviously, it was the staffs job to clean it up and they weren’t in a place to reprimand his clumsiness. 

A valued customer, and all.

“I bet you make a shit bottom, then.” Tetsurou said, watching Lev’s eyes as he broke contact and made a show of looking anywhere other than the barista. He grinned, hopefully indicative of his lighthearted teasing. “Kidding, slim little _akanbo_.”

“That’s not funny!” Lev replied, with some level of indignance like he really was offended and stirred- his sexual preferences being blatantly discussed and his age prodded at in go clearly too much for him to handle. The red seeping across his milk-colored face betrayed him. His expression softened for a moment to let genuine intrigue at the question seep through. “That’s- uh…”

“Personally, I wouldn’t even risk a good bean burrito before letting some guy fuck me.” Tetsurou continued, gradually leaning further onto the counter with his chin propped up on his calloused hands. “Would probably laxative it up a few days before and scrub myself out with some unscented soap, maybe water fast just to be really safe. Only bent over for a dude once or twice, so I wanted to make it fucking count. Don’t want to get shit on a perfectly good cock during your first time, now.”

Lev seemed to be turning pale at the thorough explanation. 

Tetsurou hesitated, then decided to tone it back with a sigh and a slow shake of his head.

“Why am I even talking about this to you? It’s obvious you’re not getting dicked down any time soon.”

“Huh?!” That comment immediately made Lev’s silent streak end and the color rushed back to his sharp cheekbones as he got in Tetsurou’s face, peacocking spectacularly under the pressure. “I could if I wanted to! Heh, could buy a p-prostitute and have way more s-sex than you’re having, definitely!”

“People who rent out whores don’t call them prostitutes, _akanbo_.” Tetsurou exaggerated the nickname a second time, blinked leisurely and turned away, on his way back to the kitchen. “Don’t worry about it. I just thought…” he stopped deliberately at the doorway, lingering.

“Thought what?” The anticipation in Lev’s tone was delicious. If it were a drink, it’d be like vanilla soymilk mixed with sewing needles in one high powered ass blender. 

“Well, I thought we could go out, sometime. But you’re kind of, ah… innocent.”

That struck another nerve and Lev proclaimed,

“I’m an adult, same as you. Go out with me, Kuroo-san!”

That was the push Lev needed to finally pick his nads up off the floor and ask him out. It was ridiculously easy to push the young mans buttons if you knew exactly where they were and how much pressure to apply- insecure about his lack of experience, both sexual and social. No doubt stemming from a less than ideal academic life and Lev was desperately trying to supplement it now that he wasn’t confined to his high school self. Tetsurou had been minoring in psychology and Lev was just so fucking easy. 

They were exchanging contact information when Yaku brought Lev’s order out from the kitchen. 

Lev knocked his coffee over six times before he finally left.

“Record breaking.” Yaku acknowledged as they repeated their daily routine of watching Lev leave, cross the street, step a few paces on his endless legs, then climb into a glistening limousine. He tripped over his own feet twice on the way, garnering glances from those passing by. A real spectacle, over six feet in Asia with pale skin, green eyes and silver hair with the coordination of a toddler. “You must’ve toyed with that poor kid pretty harshly, then. For him to be stumbling so badly.”

“He’ll recover.”

“From you?” Yaku scoffed. “What’s your problem?”

Tetsurou thought of his shitty apartment. His cracked ipad. Red lips parting around a toothbrush that glided into a hot throat, teasing the tonsils until gentle gags became violent retching- rosy scleras from the strain of puking hard enough to rip the lining of ones intestines, a wet mouth irritated from the sting of stomach acid and a lulling gaze, almost high from the exhaustion of self induced nausea. He thought of Lev, his fat wallet and his employee harassing tendencies. If Tetsurou were different, just another man trying to make a living, and some Lev Haiba inserted himself in his schedule with constant, unbearable flirting, maybe it would be disgusting. He couldn’t fight back if he wanted to, not if he wanted to keep his job. 

Of course Lev didn’t see it that way. Rich boys without compassion rarely saw it any way that wasn’t their own. 

“Lev Haiba,” Tetsurou all but purred, his eyes full of excitement and lust in equal parts, “is my fucking problem.”

**Author's Note:**

> havent written anything really fucked up in a while, hopefully my skills havent gotten too far away from me. only wrote this bc im trying to explore kinks im not that into, trying to find the appeal- pukey wukey! dark kuroo is also a favorite of mine, not nearly enough of kurolev with kuroo not being so protective and sweet to his naive boyfriend. idk when im going to update this, it was a really old wip that i only started on again because i was a little horny for lev torture. there is no noncon in this! praise be!


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